The Funeral
By Caeleus Your funeral went smoothly. Your first uncle didn't cause any trouble (like he usually would at these family gatherings), or he would have been asked to leave. Your whole family was sitting in the front, all with the same downcast gloom. I think your mother was crying, but I wouldn't know, as I was sitting in the far back, silently bawling my eyes out. Your friends were there, with the exception of Dennis. You know how he's always busy with his own events. When they lowered your casket into the ground, the raindrops, despite all the agitation, still clung on to your coffin, as if they wanted to cling on to the memories that we had. At least I wanted to. As we left your funeral procession, many of your relatives and friends were telling stories about how you were a great student, a great athlete and a great musician. What they never mentioned was how great of a boyfriend and how great of a person you were. They never mentioned how you were always there for me to comfort and console me, until you took your own life, leaving me alone in this desolate world. "It'll get better, I promise." That's what they all say. That's what my counselor at school told me. They had a Homeroom session last week detailing your death, you know? They mentioned statistics and scholarly journals about depression, not to mention how to seek help if anyone was going through depression. What they never mentioned was how you died, how it only took mere seconds to pass from this life into the void. It's scary, knowing that something like this can happen in just a matter of seconds. Your significant other can just disappear, with no warning signs, and leave you alone on this world filled with seven billion people minus one. Despite all the lectures, I could only focus on one thing. You didn't even come talk to me. You know I could have helped you, comforted you, hugged you and kissed you while gently stroking that wavy brown hair of yours that I miss this very moment. It really pisses me off when I think about the fact that you didn't even think of how selfish this action was, how deeply it would hurt those around you. Everything nowadays just pisses me off. I can't even think straight thanks to you... You used to constantly tell me to cheer up. Everyday you would give me a hug at the same place and at the same time and say "Cheer up Isabel! It's not like it's the end of the world, right?" Now, I usually just wait in the science hallway at 3pm, just to remember that you're not here. When I get home, I always instinctively grab my phone and dial your number, only to realize again that you're not here. When I go on Skype, the first contact I click is always you. I've said "Hi!" numerous times in hopes that maybe, just maybe, you'd reply back. But nothing happens. Now, the conversation is full of numerous greetings from me, and nothing from you. You see, the reason why I can't cheer up is because it simply IS the end of the world for me. My heart is torn and shattered into pieces, my soul has long dissipated, and my spirit is simply crushed and broken into little fragments of dust. I weep everyday for you. I cry out to a God I no longer believe in for you, praying for you to come back. I wish the world would just stop for a minute so that I can come to terms with your disappearance, but no. The world keeps on spinning. God doesn't answer my prayers. My bedside is still full with tear-soaked tissues. I'm still broken inside. I visited your family the other day. They were all melancholic, but they seemed to welcome me with open arms. They treated me as if I was one of their own, unlike my never-present parents. I felt safe, loved and relatively happier with them. Hell, my inner tornado of feelings even seemed to freeze when I spent time with your family. It seems like they're the only ones who could comprehend my feelings. Even though I'm not actually part of the family, they still treat me as if I were. How could you leave such a loving family behind? How could leave everything you had, everything that ever existed in your life behind? You had everything I wanted: A loving family, awesome friends, good looks and good grades. Yet you still managed to commit suicide? That sentiment alone leaves me in a daze, unable to comprehend how stupid you really are despite your intelligence... "He always talked about you," your sister said. "He would never stop telling me how great of a girlfriend you were, how you would always listen to him, cuddle with him, bake for him, and generally just how much better you made his life." Fat lot of good that did me. I did all those things cause I loved you, David. I wanted to show you how special you were. I wanted to show you how much I loved you, how much I cared for you, and how much I depended on you. "Sometimes, he would say he would feel guilty about how awesome you were, and come up with elaborate plans to set things straight." I remember those days. Once, you picked me up in a car and drove me to a classy restaurant. We had dinner, and then basically cuddled in a park for the rest of the night. I remember how you handsome you looked, how I had to fight the urge just to kiss you right there in front of your parents. I remember how you told me how beautiful I looked by spelling it out with the maple leaves in the park. I remember so many things, yet at the same time, I remember so little. "By the way, he left something for you." Those words shattered the daze I was in. My boyfriend, who has neglected to even mention me in his suicide note, left something for me? Your sister handed me a Darth Vader USB along with a weathered brown journal. Labeled on the surface of both items was a blue post-it note (apparently you knew I hated yellow post-its), saying: "To Isabel." I was tempted to open the book, to plug the USB into my computer as soon as I got home. But I didn't. I don't know why. Maybe it's a way of keeping this relationship alive? Maybe it's a way of avoiding closure? Maybe it's my mind subconsciously hoping for you to miraculously make a return, like they do in the romantic movies that you and I watched together? Maybe it's because I'm just not ready yet. "It'll get better, I promise." Maybe it does. Maybe it doesn't. I don't know for sure, and it looks like I'm going to find out by myself. Category:Caeleus's Stuff